


Welcome Back Down to Planet Earth

by InTheMidnightRain



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Anorexia, Flashbacks, Gen, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original work - Freeform, POV First Person, contains a hellish amount of dark themes, possible suggestive themes, slight hints at self harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22502953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheMidnightRain/pseuds/InTheMidnightRain
Summary: ❝ Everything is a blur, the more I think about it. I can't remember your face, or your name, just all the things you left for me to find, and that one day. ❞
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> There are a few important notes listed at the end of the chapter. Please view them for a better understanding of the story (when you get there lol). I was gonna post them here at the beginning, but they got a lil lengthy- Sorry about that!~
> 
> This may seem out of place, but if you are in need of crisis intervention for whatever reason, please use this link: http://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines  
> The link should take you to a website where you can view (hopefully accurate) suicide hotlines for different locations, uses, etc. 
> 
> Stay safe, stay alive, it's gonna be okay.

They called me too attached, and maybe I was. Maybe I was afraid to let go. I caught myself asking if this was right or not. Isn't that strange? It's not right, so why was I asking? It wasn't normal. You were faceless, no name, no appearance. You left without a trace to everyone else. For me, I saw everything you left.

I only remember your eyes. Pretty, blue, but dull. It was obvious you lacked a lot of life, like it was sucked out of you and never returned. You'd look down at your cup, and glared at the liquid like it betrayed you with it's subtle movement. I never understood it, until now. Now I caught myself doing the same thing, and I understand now.

I hope you are proud of me. I am changing too, just like you. Isn't that amazing?

Every December grew colder, it seemed. It was aware you were gone too, and I think that made it realize it was all over, because the world surely couldn't continue without you. Or maybe not... probably not. I feel like I should have listened more, because you definitely seemed like you meant it when you said the world wouldn't stop for you. Can't I say the world is ending? That it's over because mine is? It sounds weird and sappy when you call someone your world, like when you scoff at someone who says someone else is their world, but do the same after awhile. You were there, and I didn't say it. I believed in love, but not those kinds of sappy things. So I spent my time not understanding those things, their meanings. Then, out of nowhere, I understood. Because you were gone. Because my world ended.

How do we weigh those things? For all we know, we really are in our own literal self built worlds that then expand when someone else ruptures the bubble. I keep thinking about how you shattered mine, you made my perspective of reality shift, and it was then that I realized, it was expanding. My small world became bigger. You introduced me to your friends, told me stories about your family. They became my friends, my family.

Then, when you were gone, it felt like they looked to me to replace you. Like because I was closest, it was the solution. Eventually, it ended, though. Mourning was over and it seemed like when I opened my eyes, they were telling me it was unhealthy for me personally to keep mourning even though they stopped, and so, I became weird, for not moving on.

I am so sorry that I closed my eyes and that I lost you because of it. This is my fault, and from now on, I will make up for that mistake. I promise, just... give me a little more time.


	2. One - ❝ ruptured bubbles ❞

I was looking at old pictures today. I didn't believe him when he said you were in some of those. Have I seriously lost that much of my memories of you? I remember one thing though, you acted cold, but on the inside, you loved with all of your heart. Does that sound typical? It might. A lot of people describe themselves or someone else as cold but loving. However, that was you. You were beautiful. How could I forget that?

You had a pretty smile, which I remember now.

I should have listened more.

I remember when I woke up the next morning, I felt confused, dazed, dizzy. The alarm was really loud, and it felt like I was in the clouds, but not in a good way. Like I was floating with no idea how to come back down to planet earth, and truthfully, I didn't like that. I remember pushing the covers off and wondering where I was for a minute. The day went normal, I went to work, I went over there, I came home, and now I am thinking about you again.

Sometimes I bash myself when I forget you, then others, I regret remembering you. It's like my brain is on fire, split in halves, and I can't decide which side I'm on. I keep thinking back to one of the photos. You were with him, and you both had bright smiles. It seemed like you were in a field somewhere. Want to know something crazy? He told me, it was actually somewhere we went all the time. I took note of this on a piece of paper on my coffee table. I really want to go there now, because I can't remember what it's like. In another picture, it was you, me, him, and a few others, and although I didn't realize at first, on the back, it said it was my birthday, and we had all gotten together for it three years ago. Everyone was there excluding your older brother. It was brought up somewhere that a little less than three years ago was when you left me, and that seems familiar. I guess I was happy to see that picture, but as I was helping clean up and put things away, I definitely felt like I was being judged for still hurting over you.

If I'm honest, I don't know why I do. Is that weird? It isn't because I don't value you, or don't miss you, Because I do, more than anything. However I don't remember why me losing you was any different than everyone else losing you. You were special, but I don't know why.

Now, I am laying in bed, thinking about you. Again. I feel like I always think about you, just more than other times sometimes. I saw your face in all of those photos of you, so why can't I remember your face still? He makes it a lot easier, you know. Out of everyone, he seems to judge me for mourning you still the least. On occasion, he mourns you with me. Those times make me happiest, not just because someone else is remembering you with me, but also because I feel less alone in those times. I feel closer to you and him, and that's a good thing. You were always the one telling me to get to know them better, because one day I'd regret it.

I should have listened to you, this is another example of me not listening when I should have.

You were right, as always. Now, I do regret it, because I fear eventually they will become just as faceless as you. I don't want that. It's scary not being able to remember you, like there is something I am always missing. I wonder if I did something to myself when I found out you died, I could have. Maybe I overdosed on something. You would always yell at me for that. You acted like I was the most vile human to exist, even on my birthday. Most occasions we didn't celebrate with everyone, it was usually just you and me. You'd buy me a cake because neither of us wanted to make one, and we'd lay together for awhile after you found some reason to yell at me. I remember that, and I hold onto it. I knew you, though, you didn't actually hate me. You just didn't know how to handle me, and that was okay. I should have tried harder to understand that then. It didn't mean you didn't show me affection, because I was told by him that you could be very loving towards me. Why can't I remember that part? Why is it just the darker things I remember vividly? 

Can I try to analyze the mural on the ceiling and figure it out? We used to do that together apparently, for hours on end. Would you do it with me from wherever you are? Would you help me finally figure it out? Would you finally help me figure you out?

I miss you. You were so smart. I love you. I promise I always have.

The room feels so empty, and cold, and I wonder why crying isn't enough to make it better anymore. I used to cry, and cry, and cry, and eventually, I would get momentary peace of mind. I would be able to take my mind away from it for a hour or two, sometimes only minutes, but it worked. It helped. Now, I can never stop thinking about you, and I can never stop thinking about the things you left behind for me to find. I can never stop hurting. It's like your mystery fogs my memory until I get a migraine.

I plan on seeing him again tomorrow. He promised we could talk about you more. He seems a bit confused why I can't remember you much, but that's okay. I want to help him understand, and then I won't be so alone in the world you made for me. Is it weird to look at the things you left me and not know how to feel? I am happy your memory lingers, but I also don't like seeing them when I miss you in bad ways.

Really quick, can I share a weird thought with you? If you left me a little under three years ago, do the dead stop aging? Would you still be how old you were then? I hope you forever stay young, you deserve to stay beautiful.

Will this go away? Is he right about time healing the wounds? I'm not sure, anymore. Why did you leave me in this world? Maybe I should thank you. I like to think that sometimes you left me your world because mine broke when I met you, so you left me a place to be.

Thank you, I will start looking at it that way from now on. You've given me a place where I belong. You were always really sweet, even if your cold front made others believe otherwise. He was right about you from the beginning when it came to that, I should appreciate him more, and I should appreciate you more too. I hope I make you proud.

I hope one day, I can make you proud of me, so that when we meet again, you'll have a reason to show me your smile the way you used to, which I had forgotten until earlier.


	3. Two - ❝ autopilot ❞

There was a gentle hum, one of the few voices I was familiar with. "You know, he loved you a lot." He spoke quietly. "So much that he couldn't handle it." He kept his voice soft, pleasant to listen to, truthfully, I could listen to it all day, however, I didn't reply. I kept my head down, staring into nothingness.

"I remember how I told him he couldn't leave me. Because then, he'd be doing what my brother did to me. Maybe I put too much pressure on him, but I don't think so. I think he understood." I continued listening to him, something about this was nice to hear, not because it was funny, but it made sense, unlike everything else.

Why didn't you tell me he was so soothing? It was the one thing I would have liked to know, before you... did what you did.

I finally spoke. "I've heard he was really understanding." I kept my voice quiet, almost like I regretted speaking. I expected laughter, maybe because of how I said it, like I should know you were understanding. I don't know, I don't remember you. However, no laughter, just a small nod. "Absolutely. He listened to me a lot, even though looking back, it was pretty stupid. He made me laugh a lot too. Yet when he was sad, he got quiet, he'd stare at the ground sometimes, he'd shut down, and there was nothing you could do. If I was lucky, I could sometimes make him laugh, but it was rare. Most times, I assumed I was better off leaving him alone, but... I regret that now." He got quieter as he spoke, a dread colored his face. I didn't know dread had a color.

"You should have listened more." I choked out, but wanted to take it back. It sounded harsh, like I was blaming him for what you did. Although, a smile met his face. A faint one. How can you smile like that right now? Can you please teach me? I only want to cry. I don't think I understand you. He spoke again, still keeping his faint smile. "I really should have. You always know what's wrong too late, y'know? I didn't know he felt what he did until he was lost, and I dread getting up when I think about that. I think it hit the others hard too, but then again, we luckily didn't have to see his pale, lifeless face. I still remember...-"

It was like my ears stopped working, because the moment that part registered to me, I opened my eyes, and it was a blur. It happened. I talked to him again, but now our conversation seems empty. Do you remember what it was about? I don't. I remember after our conversation, I got up off the porch. We were watching the rain, from the protection of the porch. He made me some hot chocolate, said you and I used to sit under the tree in the backyard a lot and talk awhile, even when it rained. We'd come back in soaking wet, and our once empty mugs were now full of water. Why can't I remember that? It's cruel that I don't.

Sometimes, I feel like I am learning about a stranger. I don't think anyone else has forgotten you like I did. I don't think that should be possible. Maybe I work too much. Maybe that was why I forgot you. Maybe I worked you away. After I talked to him, I went in, washed my mug, he gave me a really really nice, warm hug, and I came back home. I think after that, I got into bed, and went to sleep. It's only eight now, close to eight-thirty. Can I tell you a secret? I have slept a lot more since, and it's been such a long time.

I don't take up any of my old hobbies, but I remember another thing you'd get mad at me for, was not doing enough. I spent a lot of time doing nothing, so when you started getting mad at me for "rotting", I picked up a lot of hobbies, do you remember that? I learned a lot of things, I started putting money in a jar for a rainy day, and then, to top it off, I made a decision what my future would be.

Someone told me that you were happy I was going to college, and that when you joined me in the spring, we would start suffering through those years together. I don't remember who told me that now though, they seem faceless. I don't think it was until recently that I realized how many people were in your life. I'm not jealous. I am kind of glad, in fact. It's those same people who are helping me piece back together my life. It seems like after you left me, I went on autopilot. My life was like normal, but without you. Everything became tasteless, and before I knew it, a little less than three years later, everything was a blur, and you were still gone. They told me that there are two times they visit you. On your birthday, and the day your body was buried. It wasn't until recently that I considered joining them. However, I don't visit you currently.

I hope that doesn't upset you, it's just that I don't think I am sure what I am looking for out there. I know your name, I know your voice, but the second one doesn't help me.

Are you really gone? Or am I imagining things? Is this a dream? I hope it's a dream. I think so... I miss you.

I want to see your pretty smile, because I want you to personally remind me of you. I don't know where you are, but can you do that for me? Can you remind me? Can I find a reason for you to smile? Because I want to remember. It doesn't seem right.

I hope you are doing okay wherever you are. You had a lot of reasons to cry when you were here. I don't want that for you.

You were so brave, I wish I realized that. I just thought it was who you were. That naturally, you were that way. I've come to find out I was wrong. Because, I've found out, you were terrified. Why didn't I comfort you?

Nothing is the same without you here. I wish you'd come back, and even though I keep thinking it's just a dream, I know deep down, I will never see you again. That is something that really scares me. Will you comfort me so that I'm not scared? I really want that. Promise me that, okay?

I think I want to get copies of pictures of you over the weekend from them. I am sure your family has some too, I am sure your brother would help me if I asked. I think if you were here, you'd tell me not to and get embarrassed, probably blush. I want to see your pretty smile again though, so I hope you forgive me.

I will join you soon. We can talk about this then, okay? I promise. I don't want to let you down again, so I won't. We can be happy. I want you to be happy.


	4. Three - ❝ radio silence ❞

Radio silent. For the last days that tried preparing me for the hell that waited for me, you were radio silent. He told me you were never much of one to talk about your feelings, but no one expected that to be the final nail in the coffin. It's so obvious what killed you, however at the time, everyone was afraid you didn't have enough space. This is all my fault. I made this void because I was scared I was hurting you, and now it's slowly destroying me because of your absence. I want to cry but the salty substance won't leave my body, and my eyes already burn. Is it too late to stop remembering? I̶ ̶d̶o̶n̶'t̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶'s̶ ̶d̶o̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶m̶e̶.

I don't know how he does it. I think he understands how I'm feeling, the feeling of being lost, like I'm a stranger to my own world, like you never existed. He was close to you too. It's also not the only loss he has suffered. One thing I remember you telling me was that he had been through a lot, and that you wanted me to be gentle with him. You'd murder me if I made him hurt, and something about that is so pure to me. Do you think he realizes how protective you were? Or should I tell him? I'll figure it out.

Either way, I don't know how he copes. If he has been through so much, how does he avoid being drowned by the pressure? Is it his ambitions? He confuses me, but figuring him out relieves some of the stress of remembering you, so I don't think I mind. I had never met anyone with a bigger ambition to make the world listen, a determination that wouldn't slow down or settle even after he has screamed until his lungs gave out. It's inspiring in a weird way, even if I know I could never be as brave as him, or learn to take this planet's shifts as gracefully. The stars aligned and gave me you, and you gave me him because you knew I'd need it when you left. It's insane how you've always known what's best for me, even without trying to.

He tells me you always went the extra mile to make sure I was okay. Apparently, you were always keeping an eye on me. You encouraged me when I needed to know that getting back up wouldn't hurt as bad as I anticipated, and you told me when to step away, when the weight was something I could no longer handle. I just don't understand how you always knew what to say, what to do. Were you ever scared you were making the wrong decision? I would be. I was. It was terrifying to think I was making the wrong decision by giving you time and space those last few days, but I didn't know what else to do. You had a talent in reading those around you, but no one could ever figure out what you were truly feeling, and that was your killer.

Your radio silence was a warning that I also couldn't read, and maybe if I had, I wouldn't be stuck trying to discover what you left behind for me to find. Did you know I'd find them? Or did you just blindly hope? Why trust me to find your final messages, and their scattered meanings?

Admittedly, whenever I discover something new, it's like a part of my heart dies, like it's being traded for the memory. My soul is in the guillotine. The tsunami has arrived, and it's ready to drown me, and pull my corpse into the ocean, only to return me to the earth, from which I once came. I'm scared to tell anyone that, though. I'm sure they'd worry, just like you. Was I worth your care? It was so delicate, beautiful. You had a gift, and you used it to touch the parts of anyone's soul that was in the most ruin, slowly rebuilding the structure. Maybe you only could fix their pain, because you felt it. You always focused on the pain others felt, specifically mine, you would tend to the wounds, but never your own. Was an ending the cost of all of your affection? Did you bleed too much?

I think everyone says this, but I wish I had a second chance. Not only so I wouldn't feel like I'm learning about a stranger in your absence anymore, but so I could bandage your wounds and tell you that it would be okay. It's amazing what those words could do, and no one was at your side to tell you the same when you needed it most. I just want to feel your warmth again. I'd give anything for another day in the sun.

Now that I finally have a very few solid memories of you, I've caught myself craving your touch, desperately wanting to wake up in the morning to you sleeping soundly next to me. Every morning that I wake up alone, I find myself more disoriented and lost.

◜ ◝

May, 2016 

◟ ◞

I couldn't help but look over at you. The sunlight made you look lively, and it was almost addicting to see you that way. You seemed at peace, judging by your relaxed composure. I close my eyes, shifting just a little closer. "I'm sorry about earlier." I say, breaking the silence between us. "I know you hate seeing me that way." I finished my thoughts, expecting a groan, or maybe even a whine, but instead, I heard a sigh. It didn't sound like it was one of disappointment, or annoyance, just like you were tired. "Don't say sorry for that right now." You reply, your tone quiet. You started out like you were going to scold me, but instead softened significantly. "Try not to think about it, 'kay? It doesn't matter right now. It's okay." After you added that part, you moved to where your head was rested on my chest, resting an arm across my stomach. Admittedly, I couldn't help but feel like I was melting, feeling butterflies in my stomach. I didn't get to see this side of you often, but when I do... it makes things feel okay, regardless of what's happening. "Okay." I reluctantly reply, feeling the tension in my body slowly fade, as I focus on your touch. I decide it's best to not say anything right now, and better to let myself get lost in the moment, it's sweetness, the serenity. Eventually, you ended up falling asleep. It was that moment when I realized how sweet and pure you could look, ethereal. The last thing I planned to do was wake you, because this moment was too heavenly to break just yet.


	5. Four - ❝ the ocean's tide ❞

Sometimes I wonder if there was a reason. This will probably sound incredibly strange to you, but I can remember a lot of the things you went through, but your specific details still slip through the cracks. It's bizarre to me too. It's almost unwanted, and I sometimes wish I didn't remember those things either, because they build a maze of possibilities for why you could've done it.

Was it the loss of your dad? Maybe because of your unhealthy relationship with your older brother? Was it your differences and the harassment that came with them? As if I didn't have enough options that I could only describe as uncomfortable, I also worry maybe it was because of me. Did I make your life that miserable? Unfortunately, I worry I'm not even close, but right on the edge of finding out all at the same time.

It was scary for me to realize that I couldn't remember too many memorable things from these past couple of years, and it's not because my time has been hazy like you. Instead, it's because I haven't sought out memories. I stopped showing up at a lot of events that your friends invited me to, I stopped going out and trying to meet new people. It's as I previously mentioned, my routine flipped onto autopilot, and I'd instead do that, and basically nothing else.

However, there is something easily scarier; not remembering you.

I think I'm starting to break my autopilot because of that fear. I have more reasons other than "just stopping by" to go see your friends, or alternatively, your family, and naturally those reasons all center around you. I feel haunted by a ghost I don't even know. Then again, maybe it's just impossible for me to recall you anymore, and instead, the second I regain all the details, they will slip again, and I'll spend my entire life in a blank, empty state.

I don't want that to be the case, time has a way of being horrifyingly slow and quick at the same time when you end up like this. I never want to be someone who is easily summarized as "unable to move on", or "spent life in a very unmemorable way, doing unmemorable things" ...Worrying about that alone almost makes me not want to even be alive anymore.

If we were to go back to the topic of why you did it, I question that if it was because of me, if it was specifically because of the stresses that came with knowing me. First of all, looking back, I feel like I was a bit of a nuisance. Additionally, my parents really didn't like you, which I can't understand... And finally, everything focused on me, almost, and I wish it didn't. It would have been nice to focus on you... and that leads me back to square one, with more possible reasons for why it happened: because things were about me usually, or because the stress of my parents was too much for you.

Questioning why has become unhealthy for me, and I'd proudly bookmark that thought as my own realization, but I didn't notice it until one of your friends pointed it out. She told me once that she noticed I spaced out a lot, which was easily recognizable by my aimless stare into nothingness, or my sudden silence; being unresponsive for really any amount of time. When I told her why, her expression seemed to show a light worry. She then told me that I shouldn't spend so much time stressing myself out with why you left me.

I've never spent a day in my life concerned with what's good for me, so it wasn't news to me to know I had gained a new habit that was less than ideal. Although, this was one I cared to change, even if my motivation lacked to actually do so. See, it's not just something I do in my downtime, or in casual situations. Unfortunately, I also tend to do it at work, and while my boss is thankfully very forgiving of it, because he knows about what happened to you, I'm getting a bit tired of burning myself via hot coffee, or sometimes getting more complaints about me filed because I wasn't listening to customers.

Maybe this will make you laugh, but I was pouring coffee into a mug and spaced out. When I came to, it was all over my hand, and the floor. It wasn't very fun to clean up, I'll admit. I had what I'd define as an awful mixture of first degree, and second degree burns on that hand for a few days. Although, I wonder if you could even laugh from wherever you are. If you could, I know you would. Something about my lighthearted misfortunes was always amusing to you, which was never out of ill intent. It was just because you saw how little importance it had in the grand scheme of things, how silly it was. Even if the reasoning now for some of those instances is a bit darker, it doesn't stop it from being kind of ridiculous.

Whenever something like that happens nowadays, I'm hardly offended, and sometimes I'll smile a little, but it never takes long to fade. It's those exact moments that I recall how you'd react, then shortly after that recalling comes the realization that I'll never hear your adorable laugh again. They quickly go from kind of funny accidents to painful realizations. It stings every time I'm reminded that once you were here, and now you aren't, and you never will be again. That stinging sensation hurts more than I could ever even think of describing.

Occasionally, I wonder if you considered the aftermath of your loss. This certainly isn't me trying to guilt trip you, of course. I guess I just wonder if you ever realized that it'd mean so much... or were you simply caught up in the reason? So often do I wish I knew what you thought about, how you were feeling, because not even those who properly remember you have any clue. You gave no hints, which I guess is typical, but it makes your mystery that much foggier.

I hope you knew it'd mean a lot. It's hard to consider you feeling like you didn't matter, because you impacted my life more than you'd ever know, even if my lack of memory seemingly contradicts that. You left a mark on everyone you met though. It was an impression that couldn't fade. No matter how hard the ocean tries to erase your imprint in the sand, that tide is no match for your addictive company, and entrapping personality.

I say it constantly... but I really miss you. I really don't want to get up in the mornings now that you're not here. In fact, sometimes I don't. I just lay there, and don't move a muscle for what feels like hours. It feels so lonely now, like I truly have no one to listen to me, or any company to feel loved in. Even if you left me a place to be, somewhere that I can belong, it doesn't feel right without you in that place too.

You'd call me stupid, or something like that, and most likely try to comfort me anyway, but I'm crying now. I didn't even notice at first, but eventually I started to feel a wetness fall from my eyes. I hope it isn't embarrassing for you, because I really don't want that. I just don't think I can help it sometimes – help myself.

I'm really sorry. I've let you down before, this endless agony - that could only be described as a swift but powerful punch to the stomach – is my punishment for not being there enough. Maybe my apologies will mean more when I see you again, which will be soon, I'm sure of it. I hope you can wait until then, even if I wish I could properly tell you sorry now for failing you.

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, the lack of names, appearance descriptions, and similar things are intentionally left out. This story is meant to be more anonymous until closer to the end. The details are all over the place, and some are straight up missing. This is because the protagonist has suffered massive trauma, and you are looking into the world through his gaze. It also adds a hint of mystery and confusion to the story, which I really liked.
> 
> Admittedly, I wanted this story to be an experience the reader can attach themselves to, fill in the details themselves, and so on, until the bubble is ruptured at the end and you finally learn more about the characters you spend the entire story reading about.
> 
> This story is pretty influenced by the game You Left Me, something I could only describe as beautiful, but also heartbreaking. My only hope is to create a similar work of art, but in a literary format, with basically my own take on the same concept. 
> 
> Lastly, I'd love to thank Jay for always encouraging me and making me want to continue working on things, even when I feel like they're dumb, or a waste of time. She's so sweet and helps me a ton with this story, even if she may not realize. I have her to thank for the mere motivation to work on this story sometimes, so tbh, I lowkey dedicate this story to her, even if that may sound dumb.
> 
> If you have any constructive criticism at any point, please let me know! I'd love to hear it. I'm always open to growing and learning if you're nice about it. c:


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